My name is Chen Qingxuan. I am the seventy-second-generation successor of the Maoshan Shangqing Sect. In 1983, at my master’s command, I descended the mountain to gain experience, traveling through remote villages and the countryside.
In 1980s China, the winds of reform and opening up had only just reached the depths of the mountains. Countless strange tales and secret happenings remained hidden in isolated villages, along with customs and taboos handed down by our ancestors. A white figure that weeps night after night in an old brick house. An unrotting corpse buried beneath a locust grove for thirty years. A stiff-haired zombie that chases people through a mass grave. A river-coffin washed out by the Yellow River...
With a three-foot peachwood sword in hand and yellow talismans and cinnabar at my side, I use the orthodox secret arts of Maoshan to vanquish evil and resolve the grievances of the living. But as I travel, I come to realize that the human heart, unfathomable in its depths, is often more frightening than zombies and ghosts.
(Note: All spells and folk customs in this book are inspired by traditional Daoist texts and folk traditions. This story is entirely fictional and intended for entertainment only. Please do not imitate.)
It's pretty good. Keep up the good work.
It can look good